


he is tired (so, so tired)

by koifishthatwrites



Series: to fix what's broken [3]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Depressed Oma Kokichi, Gen, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Killing Game Was A Virtual Reality Simulation (Dangan Ronpa), M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Oma Kokichi Needs a Hug, Oma Kokichi-centric, One-Sided Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Ouma not Oma, Out of Character Oma Kokichi, POV Oma Kokichi, References to Depression, Sad, Sad Oma Kokichi, Suicidal Thoughts, and boy will he get one - freeform, authors a fucking mess kids, just not now, still no beta bc im fuckign dumb, this is such a mess ugh, u already know im tagging that to be safe again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27893302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koifishthatwrites/pseuds/koifishthatwrites
Summary: Then Shumai comes by.He feels his heart somehow sink to his stomach and do a flip and clench at the same time as his entire body tenses. He acutely can feel the panic well up and only hopes it doesn’t show on his face.Slowly, as if to not startle him, Shumai grabs a chair and sits down. Kokichi watching like a hawk the entire time.“...Ouma-kun.” There it is. That voice he loves oh so much. That sweet, soft voice that would call him by ridiculously cute pet names and say “I love you”s in the most sappy ways possible in his dreams.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Series: to fix what's broken [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053170
Comments: 16
Kudos: 150





	he is tired (so, so tired)

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: read! the! tags! this! can! be! triggering!
> 
> uhhh im so sorry this is absolute shit and the title fucking sucks

He wakes up again.

At first he’s slightly confused and his brain is muddled beyond believe. Then everything becomes clearer and memories come to him like ducks to bread and suddenly, he wishes he didn’t survive the fall.

He groans. _‘What did i do to deserve this?’_

Miu’s dead body and Gonta’s terrified face comes into play. _‘Oh right, that.’_

He doesn’t bother sitting up. The bowl his nurse had delivered from a few days ago stays untouched.

His nurse comes and goes, throwing him a disappointed glance that hurts more than it should.

* * *

Morning comes and goes with him paying exactly zero attention and drowning in decapitating thoughts, as per usual.

He looks to the door, wondering if someone would finally, finally visit him and relieve him of his loneliness and distract him from the guillotine of guilt and regret hanging over hiim. 

_(_ **_“You’re alone and you always will be.”_ ** _)_

He banishes it as quickly as it becomes coherent.

* * *

Villains don’t have friends. Villains don't need friends. Villains don’t deserve friends. You are a villain. You are a villain. You are a villain. You don’t deserve friends.

He repeats it like a mantra, yet it never seems to sink in.

* * *

Then Shumai comes by.

He feels his heart somehow sink to his stomach and do a flip and clench at the same time as his entire body tenses. He can acutely feel the panic well up and only hopes it doesn’t show on his face.

Slowly, as if to not startle him, Shumai grabs a chair and sits down. Kokichi watching like a hawk the entire time.

“...Ouma-kun.” There it is. That voice he loves oh so much. That sweet, soft voice that would call him by ridiculously cute pet names and say “I love you”s in the most sappy ways possible in his dreams. 

His eyes dart around, looking anywhere other than in the eye.

“Ouma-kun, please look me in the eye.”

He does not.

“Ouma.” He flinches, no honorifics.

“Ouma-kun, we need to talk.” it was spoken so softly, yet the words made Kokichi want to curl up in a ball and cry.

He tries to put on the long broken mask, tries to piece together all the bits, tries to make it so that his beloved, did he even deserve to call him that?, doesn’t see the ugliness that is him.

It doesn’t work. His mask no longer works. It is useless, just like it’s owner.

He bites his lip as the feeling of rawness returns. It feels like being naked in a room full of strangers.

“.... I’m sorry, Ouma-kun. It must hurt to talk right now. Hang on, I’ll get you some paper.”

Saihara exits the room and Kokichi lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Shakily, he drags a hand to his pounding chest and breathes.

He doesn’t know how long it'll take Shumai to get the paper but he can only hope it doesn’t take too long. Otherwise, he will spiral.

Clutching at the fabric of his hospital wear, he can’t help but think, ‘Why now?’

It’d been so long since he’d woken up, since he’d attempted to put an end to the pain and nightmares, since he’d failed to do even that, so why bother now?

Why would they bother to visit someone ~~(a murderer, a villain, a mistake)~~ like him?

He bites his lip, trying to not get too lost in his thoughts and end up crying like yesterday.

The thought of yesterday brings back the ever so present guilt in his chest. 

Thankfully, the door opens before he can spiral into a panic attack.

“Here you go.” Shumai says quietly as he hands a medium sized stack of mini-notes and a pen.

As soon as the pen and notes are fully in his hands, he starts scribbling something down. His hands tremble from the sudden use.

Shumai raises an eyebrow at him, something he pays no particular mind to.

As soon as he was done writing, he hands a piece of paper to the other occupant of the room.

_-“Uhh can we please all just collectively forget the last twenty four hours ever happened?”_

Shumai’s angry glare was enough of an answer.

He winces, something about that glare is startlingly familiar.

_-“Please?”_

That seems to do something, as Shumai’s glare softened slightly but still remained. Though now, it seems more concerned than angry.

With a blink he realizes the glare reminds him of Harukawa-chan. He wonders if the detective learned it from her.

_‘Oh uh Shumai’s mouth is moving, zone back in idiot.’_

“—n’t keep running away from us. Ouma-kun, are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Seems as though his beloved detective’s ~~(he doesn’t deserve to call him that-)~~ still just as good at reading people.

_-“Nope, and watch me.”_

Shumai sighs, shaking his in a almost disappointed that never fails to send a pang of fear through Kokichi’s stupid, weak heart and makes him want to never disappoint the other.

Too bad his entire existence is a disappointment.

“Ouma-kun, I want you to at least try and listen to me.” 

_Should I, when it’ll only hurt me more?_ He thinks but doesn’t write. The memory of some of them belittling him right in front of his room flashes to mind. He doesn't react, but it's a damn near thing.

Shumai seems to have taken his unmoving silence as a yes as he starts talking once again.

“Ouma-kun, please trust me.”

Kokichi stares. It's all he does.

_-“No.”_

Shumai’s face falls and for a second, Kokichi wants to say yes. Anything to wipe away that… _look_ from his(?) beloved’s face.

But he ~~won’t~~ can't risk it. Not when he’s too weak to walk a single stair and the camera’s ever present presence renders him unable to even hold a knife for a second before a nurse rushes in and snatches it away from him.

Trust is a dangerous thing. It can only either end in disaster or in a miracle, and knowing himself, it’d only end in disaster.

But love is an even more dangerous thing. It can make even the most boldest, strong-willed and stubborn people give in.

Just like now.

_-“... Why should I?” How do I know you won’t betray me?_

The… _look_ in Shumai’s face doesn’t go away as he hoped but it does lighten.

(He counts that as a small victory. Shumai is a hero. Heroes should be happy. Heroes deserve to be happy. Heroes deserve friends. Villains like him deserve neither.

He ignores the small voice begging him to just _stop_. For he knows he will, soon when he falls asleep.)

“You feel guilty, don’t you.” The small, almost nonexistent flinch from Kokichi is all the proof he needs.

Shumai smiles and straightens somewhat, “Well, I want to help you get over that guilt, if you trust me to help you, then I can trust you back. After all, trust is a thing that goes both ways. Maybe if you apologize to them, Miu and Gonta will forgive you!”

Once again, Kokichi stares.

_-“Oh Shumai, Shumai, villains like me don’t deserve forgiveness.”_

Once again, Shumai’s face falls, but for once, he can’t comprehend what’s there on those pretty gold eyes he fell for a long, long time ago.

“Ouma-kun, you aren’t a villain.” _Oh_.

This time, it’s Kokichi who smiles. A lifelessly hollow, blank smile filled with so much guilt and pain it could hardly classify as a smile anymore.

_-“Shumai, you really suck at lying, you know.”_

He notes that the detective doesn’t mind him calling him Shumai and tries to ignore the little twinge of… something in his chest.

“I’m not.” There it is again, that steel hard determination burning in those mesmerizing gold orbs Kokichi fell in love with.

_-“Shumai knows I hate liars~”_ He writes with the same smile still present.

For a second, Shumai goes quiet. Then he feels electricity run through his veins and butterflies in his stomach fluttering madly as Shumai grabs both his hands and looks him directly in the eye.

Shumai’s hands are much bigger and more calloused than his own dainty ones. He wonders if it’s from those training sessions he had with Momota-chan and Harukawa-chan.

That, and Shumai’s determined frown and ever so hypnotizing eyes did _things_ to him.

“I’m not lying. You are not a villain Kokichi.” And if _that_ isn’t enough to get him on his knees, Shumai just had to call him by his first name.

As Shumai stared right into his eyes, he felt his face getting redder by the second.

_Woah,_ He thinks dazedly, Shumai has definitely changed a lot in the past months. The old Shumai would never do… _this_. The old Shumai would hide behind his hat, too afraid to do anything other than be Akamatsu-chan’s shadow.

Now, coming all alone to meet him, grabbing his hand, and looking at him with such intensity; It couldn’t be clearer how he’d changed.

And unfortunately, the changes only made him fall deeper.

In the end, he is forced to break eye contact as he could practically _feel_ his face on fire.

Even though he’d turned away, he could still feel Shumai’s gaze bore in his very soul.

Familiar silence overtook the room, tension more present than ever.

Until it broke. 

“Kokichi.” 

He flinches, glancing at Shumai before immediately looking away. 

“Please look at me. I’m not done talking.”

He doesn’t want to, but at the same time he couldn’t say no to Shumai if he tried.

Reluctantly, he looks into those ever so mesmerizing gold eyes. 

“Thank you.” Shumai smiles the smile that never fails to make his heart do a flip. “I think I phrased that wrongly. You don’t need to trust me, trust is a thing earned over time.”

The grip on his hand tightens ever so slightly and so does the string of love around his heart. 

Shumai’s face pinches into one of utter resolve, “Please… Come out of this room. You don’t have to talk to the others, or me. But please just come out.”

He wants to say no. He wants to stay in this room he hates oh so much until he falls asleep forever. 

(But things aren’t that simple, they never are.)

A wave of weary tiredness washes over him and he realizes he can’t.

_I’m tired,_ he realizes. He’s tired of the continuous flashback to Gonta’s terrified face and the hydraulic plate hovering over him for a second before the excruciating pain of being crushed into bloody bits took over every time he closes his eyes for more than a second, he’s tired of the ache in his chest that only grows every time he hears laughter come from down the hallway, he tired of the loneliness haunting and weighing down on his oh so small frame—

But mostly, he’s tired of the constant guilt and regret that hangs over his head like a guillotine waiting to behead.

So he says yes, like the guilty, selfish murderer he knew he is.

Shumai’s face lights up like a kid getting told they could have whatever they wanted in a candy store and that is almost enough to clear away the guilt hanging over him. Almost.

Shumai smiles and says he’d come to get him tomorrow at breakfast. He nods, as if he could disagree with that smile.

Shumai lets go of his hand and he ignores the voices screaming at him to grab on and beg him to never leave him ever again.

(He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve Shumai’s smile.He doesn’t deserve Shumai’s kindness. He doesn’t deserve any of their kindness.)

Shumai leaves the room and not for the first time, he is all alone in the all too white room where the walls are suddenly closing in and all he can hear are Gonta’s terrified cries.

Dully, he thinks, _‘He never answered my question. What does that mean?’_

Just like always, Shumai never fails to make him question things he wouldn’t even bother with before.

Just like always, his thoughts spiral and spiral and spiral until they can’t.

Just like always, he lays down and wishes he died at the hydraulic press.

Just like always, he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly i was tempted to squeeze in a hug or two just bc this poor child does not deserve the shit i put his through but like nah
> 
> he'll mayhaps get a hug next time but knowing me, that most likely wont happen
> 
> please let me know if im missing any tags ill try to add them as soon as i can


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